Chasing the Grail
by kayfabeAU
Summary: AU. The Dark Ages is upon Mercia, and every day that passes causes the people's hope to further wane. Step up young Chris Goldberg, who has always thought his destiny was larger than being just a farm boy. Will he be the saviour of the world? incl. Slash
1. prologue

Disclaimer: All characters belong to the WWE. Parts of the text belong to JRR Tolkien.

A/N: This is a high-fantasy story. The year is 975 AD. Mercia is considered a kingdom on its own. The Triad is my name for the Winter Triangle, comprising of Betelgeuse (Zion), Procyon (Babylon) and Sirius (Jericho).

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**prologue**

_  
Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?  
__Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?  
__Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?  
__Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?  
__They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;  
__The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.  
__Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,  
__Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?_

[- the Lord of the Rings, Book Three Chapter VI: the King of the Golden Hall]

_'How did it come to this?'_

"My lord, you must come to a decision."

The rain droned on outside, as it had for the past few weeks. Soon they will be flooded in. _'What I wouldn't give for the rain to wash these stains away...'_

Owen stood in the middle of his study, staring out into the endless night. He did not feel like a leader, much less a king with all the hopes of Mercia weighing down upon him. He was just plain Owen, the quiet obedient son of Stewart Hart. Stewart Hart, who also happened to be the finest king that Mercia has ever known. _'If I had only known your will father... What would you have done instead?'_

Mercia is facing utter ruin. Not now of course, not when the people still had plentiful to eat and drink, and time enough to demand greater rights from their king. They have known nothing but peace and stability for most of their lives and won't be expecting the chaos that is about to befall them... Not now, but in a few years' time, when Owen himself would no longer be around...

"Those are dark thoughts, my lord."  
"No darker than the times, Mark."  
"All is at peace, my lord. The men are just a little restless. They need to know that all is in control."  
"But all is spinning out of my control! Do you think that this peace will endure? No, this is just but the calm before the storm."

Owen could tell that his trusted adviser wished to retort, but decided not to, and instead quietened. The soon-to-be king gave a wry smile, and returned to his contemplation of the night sky._ 'Zion, Babylon, and Jericho - our brightest star.' _The appearance of the Triad signals the coming of winter, and Owen could not help shiver at the thought of the chill. _'Not even Jericho can give us hope enough to last through the cold. The end is near, only but a decision away...'_

There was hope, however minute. Even now, if his brother could return in time to the palace, Owen may yet be spared this seemingly inevitable fate. Bret had been the stronger of the two, and Bret could carry them through this crisis. If there is any chance for Mercia's survival at all, Bret would be it. But Bret is also hundred of miles away, free from all bonds of duty and responsibility. _'Nothing could have caged him at all, not even father's death.'_

"I wonder if he knows of it."  
"Of what, my lord?"  
"Of father's death."  
"The whole kingdom is shaken because of it. Surely prince Bret would have heard of the news?"  
"I wouldn't know. If he wants to leave, no one would be able to reach him."

Yes, Bret had always had his way. With words, with women... _'With father. Bret had always had father's love.' _They were both so alike, Stewart and Bret Hart. Proud, stubborn even, but strong. They could be counted on to get the job done. _'To get the job done...'_

"Mark, ready the guards. Tomorrow, I will be crowned king."


	2. Chapter I: Under Blackened Skies part I

Disclaimer: All characters belong to the WWE. Parts of the text belong to William Blake.

A/N: This is a high-fantasy story. The year is 995 AD. Mercia, once a great kingdom, has now disintegrated into small villages scattered around the land. Ralphus is one of these villages.

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**Chapter I: Under Blackened Skies**

_Every night and every morn  
____Some to misery are born,  
__Every morn and every night  
__Some are born to sweet delight.  
__Some are born to sweet delight,  
__Some are born to endless night._

[- Auguries of Innocence]

It was not quite midday yet. Nonetheless, the sun was already high in the sky, bright and shining. Sheltered under a convenient oak, Chris had spent his entire morning on his favourite past time - daydreaming. _'Of course I wasn't just daydreaming. I had been reading - an intellectual pursuit. But reading usually leads to imagining, and imagining leads to fantasizing, and fantasizing-'_

In other words, he was daydreaming. And a good dream it was too, complete with swords and dragons and all the works, until a tell-tale rustling woke him up.

"Phillip, if you wish to be able to properly scare someone sometime this century, you really ought to be more careful where you thread. Those leaves were just waiting for you to step on them."  
"Well, you could always pretend you didn't hear me."  
"And where's the fun in that?"

Chris opened his eyes to the sight of a pouting Phillip, or 'Phil' as he would rather be known by, and smirked. _'That boy would never learn.'_

"What are you doing out here so early in the morning?"  
"Early? Chris, it's almost noon! Your dad's been searching the whole village for you!"  
"As if he would ever bother! I'll bet all he did was send for you to find me."

Phil opened his mouth as if to argue, but thought better of it. Instead he retorted with a quiet, "Well, I did search the entire village for you."

Chris broke into a laugh as he hugged the other youth.

"And how terribly sweet of you to do that! I always knew you had a soft spot for me."  
"The whole of Ralphus has a soft spot for you. The only ones invulnerable to your puppy eyes are your dad and Hunter. And your dad has had years of experience, while Hunter's a brute so he doesn't count."

Phil's eyes were sorrowful and accusing, turning the mood from light to sombre. Chris shrugged and turned away to face the sky, not wanting a confrontation so early in the morning with his best friend.

"I can't help what others think of me. It's not within my control."  
"You could always stop flaunting that flippant attitude of yours. You could always try to care."  
"I am not flippant and I do care. It is just so difficult to fit in. Day and night doing the same chores- I am not _meant_ to be farmer, Phil. I am meant for something more! Those ruins, these books- I can feel it, deep within me. My life should not be wasted on tilling earth and growing corn."  
"And all the rest of us are? Face it, Chris. Civilisation is long gone and over. Ever since the Fall, no one has been able to establish a proper town, much less a kingdom. Farming and hunting are all there is to life now."

Phil was pleading with him, he could tell, but all Chris felt was pity. _'If only I could tell him about Dwayne. Then he would see, see how we could make a difference if only we tried...'_

"And anyway, Hunter has been up to his tricks again. He's been trying to force your dad into a bad bargain and there's no one there to stop him," Phil ended with a grin, as the mention of Hunter forcing his dad to do _anything_ took Chris' mind off his dark thoughts and gave him the push needed to go home.

"Damn you, Phil! Why didn't you tell me? And all these time spent on worthless arguments when I could be off beating the life out of Hunter..."

Phil could not help but giggle to himself as he saw Chris disappear along the dirt path back to the village. _'And I also 'forgot' to tell him that Stephanie was paying his dad a visit! Now that's payback for last week's trick with the hog pen.'_

As he settled himself down where Chris had earlier sat, Phil picked up the fallen book. He read the last few lines and frowned. "Some are born to endless night..."

_'I wonder if you truly know how special you are...'_


	3. Chapter I: Under Blackened Skies part II

Disclaimer: All characters belong to the WWE.

A/N: This is a high-fantasy story. The year is 995 AD. Chris' dad, Bill Goldberg, owns a large farm, mainly growing corn. Stephanie McMahon is daughter of the village governor Vince McMahon, and Paul Helmsley is her self-appointed bodyguard.

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**Chapter I: Under Blackened Skies**

If there was one person Chris hated, it would be Paul 'Hunter' Helmsley. _'Alright, 'hated' may be too strong a word. More like 'disliked'. Or 'detested'. Or 'loathed'. Or 'abhorred'. Or-'_

In any case, Chris was always wary of Hunter and whatever he did. Especially when his dad was involved. The last time, Hunter had brought some ruffians to Chris' farm to 'do business'. With Bill Goldberg's legendary temper, it was needless to say that discussions over pricing led to the inevitable fight. Thankfully, Chris had returned in time to settle things without necessitating the trashing of the whole farm. The beating that Hunter received afterward was a bonus.

This time, things have not yet escalated to boiling point. In fact, his dad and Hunter seemed to be discussing things peacefully, for once. Chris was just about to head back to his 'reading spot' when a shrill cry shattered the peaceful atmosphere.

"Christopher, you're back!"

There are moments in your life when time seems to stop. When everything comes to a stand still, and all you can focus on is a single word.

For Chris, this was one of them.

_'RUN!'_

Unfortunately, Chris' reflexes were not nearly as fast as he would have liked, and he was unable to escape from Lady McMahon's clutches.

"Oh, Christopher! I had been looking for you all day! Wherever could you have been?"

Chris struggled not to roll his eyes at her usual dramatics, and opted for a fairly reasonable tone, "Seeing how it is just past noon, I wonder how could you have been searching for me for a whole day? Or did evening creep by without my notice?"

Stephanie giggled and wrapped her arms around one of his, physically restricting him from moving away from her.

"Semantics. Why does it matter if I spent the whole day or just a minute? The point is that I came here looking for you and you weren't here."

Chris was just about to argue his point when she tutted to shut him.

"Anyway, Hunter and I have come here with a suggestion for your father. Since we are about to be family and all," she drawled, just as Hunter managed a shout of 'what family?', "why don't you give us a discount on your products? My father is the village governor after all." She even batted her eyelids for good measure.

Hunter was watching Chris and Stephanie, his attention drawn away from the older Goldberg. Chris sized up both Stephanie McMahon and Hunter before carefully phrasing his reply.

"Well you see, if we were to become family, it really wouldn't matter if I charged you or not..." At this, Stephanie immediately brightened, while Hunter glared at the blond youth.

"However, since I refuse to be in any way associated with a stuck-up, pig-nosed, fat-bottomed, slow-witted cow, I don't see why you should get any benefits from my farm." This comment managed to bring up a smirk on his dad's face, which just made Chris all the more smug. On the other hand, Stephanie's jaw dropped to her considerably large assets, while Hunter struggled to contain his laughter.

"You- you uncouth- you lousy uncouth bore!" The McMahon heir shouted before whipping around and marching away, taking care to swing her hair in Chris' face. "Come on Hunter! We are leaving!"

The other boy hurried to follow Stephanie, even as Chris shouted more derogatory remarks in their wake.

"Boot-licking jackass! Bottom-feeding ho! What a match-made in trash-land!"

"I do think that's quite enough, boy," Bill's gruff remark brought Chris back to himself. "But really, where have you been all day?"

Lying to his dad was almost second nature to Chris now, and this time was no different, "Hunting, dad. The woods were full of rabbits, just ready for roasting!"

"Hunting, eh? With your bare hands?" Bill's tone was menacing, and Chris had barely opened his mouth to give an excuse when he was shut up completely.

"And rabbits rarely come out of their burrows this time of the year."


End file.
